Clipped Wings
by inspiteofbalance
Summary: Quinn is a high ranking Angel in the realm beyond. She falls in love with Rachel Berry, who is due to die at the opening night of her first Broadway play.


She traces the scars on her lover's back with her eyes. She refrains from directly tracing them with her fingers, afraid to wake her up. Her fingertips know the feeling by heart anyway. The scar tissue, a slightly darker shade than the woman's otherwise alabaster skin tone, zigzagging down both of the blonde's shoulder blades, so uneven and crooked… and yet oddly symmetrical.

She still remembers how the hospital personnel used to joke about it in the months following the traffic accident. How they used to marvel that despite the blunt trauma to her ribs, her body suffered no other lacerations than the two parallel ones on her back. How, even now, the occasional silhouette of wings pops into her mind's eye sometimes.

Draping herself more closely across her beloved's graceful frame, her gaze never leaves the slightly swelled tissue. She caused these, she thinks. She made these, but also in more than one way she's also grateful for these. Without them, who knows what would have happened?

-

"I don't think you fully realize what this means."

"I know what I'm doing, Santana," she replies in an even voice although she's aware of the undercurrent of panic slightly rising the more she allows the reality of her upcoming choice to sink in.

"No, I don't think you do Lucy Q. But you do know what happens to people that lose their guardian angels."

"Since when are you concerned about her well-being?"

"Since I'm _her_ devil!" the Latina snaps back. "And in case you have forgotten - _that_ doesn't mean that I want to see her suffer just as it doesn't mean I want to see her _die_. For crying out loud Quinn, annoying or not, I love to see the midget indulge! Every fucking vice there is? Yeah, let her enjoy her shit. And anyone who stands in her way? -Is welcome to fuck right off. Because I actually want to see her _happy_! But if she loses her guardian, if she loses the one force looking out for her, then it's the see-saw effect and she might just dive off the deep end. And before you can even say _Final Destination_, she'll be pushing fucking daisies anyway!"

"She won't lose me." Quinn murmurs.

"She won't? Oh that's cute." Santana flashes her her sweetest, fakest smile. "Tell me, Quinnie, what exactly makes you think Rachel will even want you around?" Quinn tenses up. "You may be the hottest-most ethereal piece of angelic ass this side of the heavens, but nothing, and I mean _nothing_ gives you a guarantee that Tiny Jewish Princess will even like you, not to mention reciprocate your drooling." Santana nonchalantly points her hand in Quinn's direction. "And let's face it – she doesn't even _know. You._ Even after you fall, you will remain tethered to her. You will be drawn to her and frankly, you'll be a mortal with no background, no social standing and nothing to fall back on, so you'll also be pretty much co-dependent of her. But here's the catch – she doesn't owe you shit. So it's just a question of time before she'll label you as a creepy little stalker, I mean if you'll even last that long down there on your own, and hand you your restraining order. Good luck watching over her _then_!"

Quinn sets her jaw. "I can take care of myself-"

"You're not listening!"

"No, you're not listening! She's my perfect-" she pauses to regain her composure, "she's _my_ responsibility. I cannot and will not let her die Santana. Not this time. Not her." She shakes her head and rakes a hand through her long mane in frustration before continuing, "I mean, how can you even be so blasé about this? Don't you care?"

"I _do _care about her!"

"So why now, Santana? Why all of a sudden? Usually we get a heads-up months, years, decades even! This whole thing just reeks of foul play and I won't stand for it!"

Santana barks out a laugh. "Hah! Look at you Ms. _One-shall-not-meddle-with-fate_! Weren't you always the one to trust the higher design? Yes, being told she'll die in a matter of hours seems a bit sudden, but were you not in lesbians with the dwarf I think you'd hardly as much as bat an eye over it before moving onto the next mortal we'd be assigned to."

Quinn remains silent. "What do you do when life is not fair?" she asks softly.

"Fair? You bet life is not fair! Because there is no fair in life. Life is what you make of it. Or what the mortals make of it. There are no right or wrong choi-"

She freezes while Quinn slowly looks up with a victorious glint in her eyes. Well played.

"-Why you little self-righteous shit," the demon admits her defeat. "Ok. Alright. _Fine,_" she throws up her hands in the air."But as pointless as it obviously is, I'm warning you: Your stubbornness will be your downfall, Quinn! No fucking pun intended!"

-

She huffs against Quinn's shoulder blade. No, she doesn't want to think about what-ifs. She doesn't want to consider the outcome of that day, their lives, were it not for the blonde's scars. Nevertheless the loud honking of the incoming car resounds in her mind and she blinks back unbidden memories. The flutter of her eyelashes must've tickled, because it causes the body beneath her to stir. Quinn inhales through her nose pulling thus Rachel from her melancholic reverie.

The corners of her mouth quirk up and Rachel plants a lingering kiss to the sensitive flesh of Quinn's scar, eliciting an appreciative growl from the blonde.

"Mmm. Morning," comes the raspy greeting and it's as if only from that moment on the day really begins.

"Morning," Rachel whispers with a smile as she leans up to kiss her soul mate on the lips.


End file.
